Second Chance Hero

by Shelley Calloway

  Her cheeks flushed. “I hardly sailed, Tyler. What I did was stay out of your way.”

  “You helped a time or two. Remember those knots you made when we docked?”

  She chuckled. “I hope you double-checked them. I’d hate for your brother to return to Cynthia’s slip just to find I’d inadvertently let the boat loose.”

  “If that happened, I’d take the blame.”

  “No, if it happens, I’ll take the blame.” Slowly pulling her hand from his, she said, “To tell you the truth, I’ve rarely felt like I did today—so free and at peace. I felt like I could do anything this afternoon. Like I could be anyone I wanted to be.”

  “Because you could.”

  Instead of acknowledging his comment, she continued. “Actually, the way I was today surprised me. I’m usually the person in control. And if I’m not, I have a really hard time with it.”

  “Maybe it was time you let someone else guide you.”

  When she looked skeptical, he chuckled. “Okay, maybe it’s sailing that suits you.”

  “I’ve been on the water a lot and it’s never happened before.”

  “There’s something about the physical effort of keeping the sails flying that I never get over. It’s like becoming one with the boat.” Hearing his words, he shook his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, I sound ridiculous.”

  Her eyes soft, she murmured, “Not at all. At least, not to me.”

  Seeking to lighten the mood, Tyler quipped, “Well, no matter how I felt at ’one’ with anything, I’m feeling pretty grateful that I got us back to the marina without incident. I can sail, but I’ve had my share of mishaps. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d gotten us stranded on a sandbank.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t.” Leaning back, Tyler forced himself to look around so she wouldn’t get spooked with him gawking at her like a lovesick pup.

  The Silver Pelican had been around for years. Part of its charm had been its study in contrasts. Fine silver, linen and crystal had kept company with exposed pipes, a scarred cement floor and a definitely sparse decorating style. In the past, eating at the restaurant had given him the feeling of eating a fancy dinner in the middle of a warehouse.

  But over the past four months the decor had undergone an extreme makeover. Hard cement had been replaced with thick planked floors. The walls were a creamy slate-blue instead of gunmetal-gray. Gone were the few old fishing and yachting memorabilia tacked helter-skelter on the entrance’s walls. Now a few choice black-and-white photos were displayed in buffed silver frames. The wait staff in their black slacks and crisp white shirts complemented the linen tablecloths. Even at lunch, white pillar candles lit the center of each table.

  A slight clearing of her throat brought his attention back to Remy. After smoothing the pad of one finger over the rim of her flute, she said, “So…why did you move here, Tyler? Really?”

  “I wanted to be close to Cindy.” That was the truth. It was almost the whole truth.

  “Are you two really close?”

  “Yes. I guess I never really did tell you about my family. Well, the short version is that both my parents died suddenly in a car accident. For years it was just Cindy and me. She’s my twin. Did I tell you that?”

  Amusement played along her lips. “I had no idea. What was that like, growing up with a twin sister?”

  “Great.” He grinned. “Sometimes I wish I could tell you all kinds of stories about the two of us fighting or something—it seems that what most kids do. But if I said we’ve had our share of fights, it wouldn’t be true. The truth is, we’ve always gotten along. When we were little, our house was the house for everyone to come play at. Mom never cared about messes or noise. Cindy and I would have friends over and play pirates or house or ghosts in the graveyard…whatever we could. Then, when everyone went home and it was just the two of us again, we’d keep right on playing. She loved Legos as much as I did. Together we’d spend whole evenings building towns.”

  “It sounds ideal. I’m jealous. My brother, Tim, is three years older than me. We got along, but were never especially close. We still aren’t, not really.”

  “Having Cindy—it was great. It was like we had someone in our corner. Always. Looking back, I’d say my parents, Cindy and I all got along unusually well.” Tyler glanced at Remy, wondering if he was ever going to be capable of completely describing how good his childhood had been. “We were our own unit. Like the Four Musketeers or something.”

  “You were lucky.”

  “We were. But after Mom and Dad died, we both took it hard. Each of us took a semester off from college to take care of the house and to sort through their things.”

  “It’s nice that you two had each other.”

  “I needed her, Remy. Losing my parents at twenty-one was tough, though I guess it is at any age.” Picking up his glass, he swirled the champagne a bit, liking the way the sparkling liquid caught the sun just right. “Anyway, we put everything in order and tried to get our minds around all we’d lost. A few months later Cindy found Keith.”

  “And you didn’t find anyone?”

  “No.” When she frowned, he tried to clarify what he meant. “I mean, I did find what I wanted—it just wasn’t a person. See, I wasn’t looking for another relationship. I wanted something different. I started interning at a software company my senior year. As soon as I graduated, I was hired on full-time. Later on, bigger companies recruited me. I was successful, Remy. Really successful. It made me happy, and that’s what I clung to.”

  Hearing his words out loud, Tyler almost apologized. It wasn’t like him to be so candid…so unguarded.

  But instead of finding fault, she murmured, “I know what that’s like—finding work.” Remy looked away from him, almost as if she was being transported back to a darker place. “It helps.”

  “My career definitely helped me.” For a moment Tyler was tempted to turn the tables and ask about her loss. About her husband, Mark, about what dreams she regretted never fulfilling. About why she never went to her family for help.

  But instinctively he knew she’d never respond to that much of an invasion of her privacy. So he kept the conversation firmly focused on himself…though he was realizing that he, too, wasn’t very comfortable talking about losses.

  “I was good at sales. And since I never really had anyone to go home to, I worked really hard. No schedule was too demanding. No trip too tricky to schedule.”

  “No weekend too inconvenient to work.”

  He smiled. Few people understood that. “Exactly.”

  “Even with all that work, I’m still surprised you never found anyone special.”

  “I wanted to, but now I think it’s good I never did. Back then, in Houston, I wasn’t ready for an emotional commitment. I just wanted to think about items I could see. Cars. Stuff.” He looked at her quickly, not sure if he was making any sense at all.

  When she nodded, he continued, ready to share feelings with her that he’d never shared with anyone. “The things I thought were important, money and material items…well, they’re tough to base a relationship around. And the women who were also attracted to those things… Well, they were great people, but the stuff we had…it wasn’t what I wanted to make a life around.”

  Their lunches came. Scallops on a bed of rice and greens, beautifully presented with wedges of lemon and grilled asparagus. Remy flashed a smile. “This looks almost too pretty to eat. But I’ll try my best.”

  Picking up his own fork, Tyler wondered if he’d even notice if his food tasted like cardboard. The intensity of his feelings for her overshadowed everything else at the moment.

  He just hoped that feeling would stay awhile.

  IT WAS CLOSE TO FIVE O’CLOCK when Tyler pulled up to Remy’s house. For a moment she considered asking him in, then thought better of it.

  Tyler Mann had been too “everything” today. Too gorgeous. Too attentive. Too perfect. For hours at a tim
e she’d forgotten she was a widow. Forgotten to be sad. Had forgotten to be anything but a woman in the company of an exceptional man.

  She wasn’t sure how Tyler had managed it, but he’d held her hand the whole way home, even shifting gears with her fingers linked in his. And, to Remy’s dismay, holding hands with him had felt natural. Sweet.

  At her door he trailed one hand down her arm, settling on her hip. Bent his head slightly and brushed his lips across hers. The feeling was whisper-soft. Gentle. Different.

  Little by little a dormant spiral of desire spun forward, encouraging a response. She leaned close, rested her hands on his shoulders. And held on. Lips opened and met. His tongue darted forward. To her surprise, she heard herself moan. Oh, it had been so long.

  So very, very long since she’d been kissed like this…kissed as if their touch was just the beginning.

  One kiss became three. Tentative moves intensified. Deepened. He kissed her so slowly, so perfectly, she would have imagined that the moment was just as special to him, too—if she hadn’t known better.

  Surely Tyler had been on dozens of dates like this. This was probably nothing special for him. She just happened to be the happy recipient of all that charm for the afternoon.

  Finally he stepped back. “Thank you for today.”

  “No, thank you. It was wonderful. Everything was… Everything was great.”

  To her dismay, he grinned. “I liked that kiss, too.”

  And before she could clarify what she’d meant—that she’d been talking about the champagne, about the scallops, about Cynthia, about how great and exhilarating it had felt to be out on the water—he was already walking back to his Corvette and sliding behind the wheel.

  She barely had time to wave goodbye before he zipped away. Leaving her alone.

  Her keys and sunglasses seemed to clatter unusually loudly when she tossed them onto the front table. Her beach bag felt heavier than ever when she carried it to the laundry room and quickly tossed the towels in the waiting washing machine.

  The kitchen looked just as sparkling and neat as it ever did. Only a single cereal bowl rested in the stainless steel dishwasher.

  Before stepping on the white carpet, Remy was careful to take off her spiffy new shoes. It wouldn’t do to accidentally stain the carpet.

  Unwilling to sit in the empty room with only the television for company, Remy quickly walked into the luxurious bathroom that Mark had taken such care to design.

  As water sprayed onto the intricately carved Italian tile lining the shower, more than ever Remy felt sure of one thing—she had never felt more at a loss as to what to do next.

  Chapter Nine

  Answering phones at Carnegie was certainly one of the layers of hell, Tyler decided. It had to lie right between burning in fires and climbing ladders nonstop.

  Time spent at work certainly felt never-ending.

  So did the coffee and lunch breaks. He was allotted one ten-minute coffee break and one thirty-minute lunch break per eight-hour shift. During each time, he raced out of his vanilla-colored cubicle, anxious for the slightest change in scenery.

  However, that quest was always futile. There was only one place for Carnegie employees to visit besides the bathroom and the hot and humid smoking area outside—the break room.

  Tyler wasn’t a fan of the rather drab kitchenette. It reminded him of his first apartment. Actually, the room with its pale yellow walls, tan linoleum and stark white countertops was depressing. The refrigerator looked old enough to have belonged to his parents, and the three microwaves always looked as if they’d lost the battle with a bottle of Pine-Sol.

  Plus, there never seemed to be anything good in the three snack and drink machines.

  Or in his lunch.

  Not that he could blame anyone else for his unappetizing lunches. He packed his own meals.

  Which brought up a whole other source of irritation—the fact that he’d come full circle to packing stale sandwiches again. When was the last time he’d packed his lunch? Seventh grade?

  He couldn’t believe he’d ever taken his hour-long lunches at a variety of restaurants for granted in his past life. Obviously he’d been a fool.

  Looking into his sack, Tyler pulled out a lopsided peanut butter sandwich and a bag of chips. Just as when he was thirteen, neither item looked appetizing.

  Well, at least the process of wolfing down the sticky sandwich gave him the perfect excuse not to talk. Lately the break-room conversation hovered around the sale on diapers at the local convenience store, some gal’s search for a new look in eye shadow, bloating and water retention…and the elusive “iron lady” Ms. Greer.

  “I heard she was here all day Sunday,” Kaitlyn said as she nibbled on her usual lunch—a carton of strawberry yogurt and an orange. “I kind of feel sorry for her. I mean, all she does is work.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for her at all. I heard she’s gotten exactly what she’s always wanted,” said the middle-aged woman with permed hair who sat across from Tyler. “Several people have told me that she’s never wanted a family. That’s why she’s so difficult to deal with. All she does is put a hundred percent of her time and energy into Carnegie.”

  A brunette standing in front of the pop machine nodded. “This place is her family. Her second home.” With a sniff, she added, “It’s sad, really.”

  Kaitlyn wrinkled her nose in confusion. “I thought her husband died.”

  “He probably couldn’t wait to get away from her, she’s so tough,” Permed Lady said. “I mean, have you ever seen her smile?”

  Tyler had. Thinking again of the way she’d practically smiled nonstop aboard the Cynthia, he wished others could have seen her then.

  Or maybe not. Here they were, talking as if Mark’s death hadn’t affected her any more than losing a set of keys. It made him sick. So sick he couldn’t sit quietly anymore. “Don’t you think you all are being pretty harsh?” he asked. “Give her a break. She’s got a lot of responsibility here. Plus, it can’t be easy, watching your spouse die.” He knew better than anyone in the room that it hadn’t been easy for her at all.

  “I’d feel sorrier for her if she was ever just a little bit understanding,” the gal who’d gotten a root beer commented as she paused on her way out the door. “She passed on my hourly raise last month, saying my production numbers were low. I don’t think I can be too harsh.”

  Tyler chomped on the last of his sandwich so he wouldn’t make a mistake and comment on any of that. If he said a word, a steady stream of four-letter-word-filled insults was sure to emerge.

  As a few more employees filtered out of the room, Kaitlyn scooted a little closer and squeezed his forearm. “Don’t mind Emma. She’s always complaining about something. If it wasn’t being skipped over for a raise, it would be her boyfriend or her mother or the fact that it’s hot in Florida.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Leaning even nearer, close enough that Tyler caught the faint scent of honeysuckle, she murmured, “I’ll tell you a secret. Her production numbers really did suck. She’s as slow as molasses on the phone.”

  “So raises really are possible?”

  “You bet.” With a little pleased smile, she added, “I’ve gotten two in the past seven months. Shawn Wagner even went so far as to call me a model of efficiency.”

  “Congratulations.”

  Kaitlyn giggled.

  A chime rang overhead, signaling the end of the first shift’s break. Kaitlyn paused on her way out. “Tyler, you know…we never get much time to talk. We ought to plan to do something sometime soon. Away from here.”

  His mouth conveniently full, Tyler nodded weakly when she waited for an answer. As soon as she turned away and left, he leaned back against the chair. Well, he had another ten minutes. Maybe if he was lucky, he could spend at least a portion of it alone. He needed to figure out how he could get out of this place, fast.

  And what he should do about Kaitlyn. He felt a slight attraction to
her, but his feelings for Remy were real. He knew he was falling hard for her. He wanted to be with her again, wanted to see her every night.

  And that kiss—it was so sweet, so stirring. He thought about the way her hips had felt next to his. The way her body had pressed against his, so soft, so willing. It was as if she’d been waiting for him to come to Destin. Waiting for him to love her.

  But he also wasn’t a fool. There was a very good chance that Remy would never want what he did. And honestly, if she didn’t, he didn’t know if that would be okay.

  He wanted a family.

  So, therefore, for better or worse, he kept Kaitlyn’s offer in the back of his mind. Just in case. He should tell her he wasn’t interested, but a small part of him kind of was. Things were going really slowly with Remy. And while he was fine with that, she hadn’t exactly pressed him for another date.

  And though he had a heck of a crush on her, his goal of marriage and babies hadn’t gone away. If Remy wasn’t ultimately interested in such things, Tyler knew he’d be tempted to try things with Kaitlyn.

  Surely there was nothing wrong with keeping her in the wings, was there?

  The door swinging open scattered his thoughts. So did the person who appeared. Shawn.

  “Hey,” he said as soon as he sipped a good amount of pop. “I’ve got ten more minutes.”

  She smiled quizzically. “That’s okay. I’m not here to monitor you, just to get some coffee. How are things going?”

  “Fine.”

  “Glad to hear it.” After pulling out a mug and filling it to the brim, she surprised him by taking Kaitlyn’s vacant spot. “And…your weekend? How was it?”

  “It was good, too. And yours?”

  “Oh, about like you’d imagine with four kids—hectic. Though Eddie and I did manage to go to Bishop’s Gate on Saturday night. We spent the night in his parents’ condo and spent most of Sunday hanging out on the beach with the kids.”

  “My sister has two girls I try to see as much as I can. What are yours? Girls? Boys?”

  “The grand total is three girls and one extremely active baby boy.” Comically, she rolled her eyes. “I tell you, I thought after three kids nothing could surprise me, but he’s sure giving me a run for my money. He’s super active and always looking for trouble. He’s hit every milestone earlier than any of the girls.”